


(be)longing

by the_fluffy_unicorn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel Lives, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Sharing a Body, also, but like, but not for too long don't worry, disembodied Gabriel, graphic depictions of emotional turmoil, of course Gabriel isn't dead not really, oh and did I mention angst, still in denial destiel, when I'm fixing it I'm fixing it all the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 00:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fluffy_unicorn/pseuds/the_fluffy_unicorn
Summary: several years after Gabriel's death during a witch hunt gone wrong, Sam still can't let go of his pain and his love. he's mostly coping well, although he doesn't see the point. but one day everything changes.aka I wrote a v sad sabriel post so of course I had to fix it. it took me 8 months to get this relatively short story finished and get myself through the writer's block, but here it is, finally.





	1. prologue

Whenever Sam spends endless hours sitting by the window in a motel room up to his ears in research, Gabriel makes sure that he gets distracted by something funny or weird happening outside, like a bird landing on the windowsill or a puppy chasing its tail or some random guy tripping over his own feet and then fully flopping onto the ground, laughing and staring into the sky instead of awkwardly scurrying away - something innocent enough Sam wouldn’t get suspicious but noticeable nonetheless - and every time Sam smiles at the sight before him

Gabriel smiles, too, and counts it as a win because Sam takes a much-needed break and grabs a snack or stretches his limbs or drinks some water, _the kid is shit at taking care of himself,_ Gabriel thinks, _and who better fit for the job than a guardian angel, well, guardian rather by choice than appointment, but still, I’m dead so it’s not like they can tell me what to do any longer, although to be fair I was never good at doing what I was told anyway, and besides, I really miss his stupid smile with those stupid dimples and I’m pretty sure I’m dead yet somehow I’m still here and I miss him, and if watching him and making his day a little better is all I’m good for these days I’ll take it, and I won’t ask for more - there’s no one to ask so I’ll take it, yes, I’ll take it_

The wind slaps a maple leaf onto the window right in front of Sam’s face and he jumps a little, looking up to find the source of the sound; the leaf is beautiful, the colour of honey and gold and tinted red in the middle; Sam’s lips turn up at the corners and he sighs as he reaches into his bag, pulling out a little notebook, opening it at an empty page, and he writes

 _Gabriel,_ Sam writes. _I miss you._

Outside, it begins to rain


	2. one

He kept the leaf.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, but as they were leaving the motel next morning, he glanced back at the window. The leaf was still there, despite the overnight storm and the wind, as if it had been glued to the glass. Without thinking, he reached out a hand to peel it off, but the leaf floated down into his palm before he could touch it. It was odd, and he looked around, suspicious, but there was nobody except for his brother, jangling his car keys impatiently, so he closed his fist around the leaf and hurried to the parking lot.

That was October. More than six months ago.

Now it was April, and the sun shone bright and the sky was blue, and he was sitting by the window in yet another cheap motel room, looking outside, distracted by the stubborn dandelion, against all odds growing right through the crack in the road, nodding its golden head in the breeze.

He smiled and reached for his notebook.

The leaf was still there, tucked between the pages, all dried out and weightless, its gold now faded to pale yellow and the red spot in the middle the colour of dried blood.

He opened the notebook to an empty page.

_It’s such a beautiful day today. You would have liked it. You’d probably get bored out of your mind within the first five minutes of being stuck here, and coax me into getting out into the sun and the sky and the air so fresh and new and full of unspoken promises. We’d wander through the woods, not for the hunt, simply for the sake of wandering and listening to the birds and the trees and the flowers reaching up, following the sun. You’d definitely talk me into making flower crowns or braiding flowers into my hair, and I’d let you, despite all the teasing I’d get from Dean later, I’d let you, because I know how much you love it and I almost never let you do it when I had the chance._

_I miss you. That’s nothing new, of course, but I cannot help it, especially on days like this. There’s always this… something about spring, maybe it’s the air or the colours of everything so new and full of hope, I don’t know, but it feels like magic, like a promise of something better and greater and more and wonderful, like it’s a start of something completely different and unheard of, not yet another summer._

_There’s longing and yearning in everything you look at, and it’s inside you, too; on days like this I just can’t help it. I miss you like crazy, Gabriel, I miss you more than anything, and I know it’s been years, and I know I’ve tried everything and I know for sure I can’t bring you back, and yet, somehow, on days like this I don’t just miss you. I miss you and I want you back and I hope, I’ve got so much hope I have absolutely no idea where it’s coming from, but I hope for a miracle and I know it’s out there, I just have to push and reach out and…_

_I miss you. I know it’s hopeless, this hope, and quite pathetic, but what can I do. I’m gonna get drunk tonight. It’s not the first time and I know how it goes. This hope feels so… real, but at the same time I know that nothing will happen. There are no miracles left. Not for us, anyway._

_I miss you, Gabriel. I miss you so much. I wish_

He ran out of space on the page and had to look up, wiping the tears away. There was no use trying to stop them, so he let them flow, and turned the page and picked up his pen again, and–

The page wasn’t empty.

He sat there, unable to move, to think, to _breathe–_

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real, but there it was, right in front of him, and it didn’t go away, no matter how many times he blinked. Slowly, he lifted a hand. His fingers hovered over the page, uncertain, and then he let them touch, feeling the grooves in the paper, tracing the words that couldn’t – shouldn’t be there, written on a page that was supposed to be empty.

_I miss you too, kiddo._

_..._

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Back when it happened, he’d tried everything. Demons, angels, psychics, Ouija boards – you name it – but nothing worked. God was… undisposed, and even though he had chosen to bring Castiel back on multiple occasions, it looked like he wasn’t willing to do it more than once when it came to Gabriel.

Gabriel was dead. Cas had to assure Sam, over and over, that no, archangels could not become ghosts, and no, he didn’t know what happened to them when they died, and yes, no matter how much it pained him, Gabriel was really gone.

But it was so fucking _wrong._ It just wasn’t fair, and a very, very stupid way to die (although, when he thought about it, he realized there were no ways to die that weren’t stupid, because the result was _you, being dead_ , and that was pretty stupid). And definitely not the way the archangel Gabriel should have ceased to exist – at a hunt gone wrong, getting in the way of a spell that was intended for Sam.

It shouldn’t have been more than a mosquito bite for an archangel. It shouldn’t have affected him at all.

But it did.

It did.

Gabriel was gone. Sam had refused to believe it for a very long time. The fact that they stored Gabriel's vessel – Gabriel's _body_ – in the bunker cold cellar didn’t help either. Sam kept sneaking downstairs when the pain was just too much to bear, sitting there for hours on end, whispering, praying, pleading for him to wake up.

It was Cas, again, who managed to find the right words to tell him that he should try and let go. The journal was his idea as well – a substitute for Sam's frequent visits downstairs, a way to deal with the pain, the anger, the sorrow – all of it.

And he made it. Slowly and reluctantly, at times still not sure that there was a point to any of it, but he made it.

Until those five words on an empty page hit him like a hail storm.

He’d been doing so well. He was… not happy, but… okay. He was okay, most of the time. Of course he still missed Gabriel, still thought about him, still talked to him in his journal. But he was okay. He didn’t have to force a smile; he even laughed sometimes, the dull ache his sorrow simmered down to almost forgotten for a brief moment of joy. He couldn’t yet be happy, but he could feel joy. And that was something.

Something that he didn’t want to lose.

Or, rather, something that he didn’t want to find again. The impossible, surreal hope that _perhaps there was still a chance._ The hope that would bring back all his pain and double it if – _when_ – it proved to be false.

He didn’t want that, again.

He couldn’t.

He closed the notebook and stuffed it back into his duffel. Drew the curtains. Pulled the laptop closer and got back to his research. Gabriel was dead. Had been for years. There was nothing he could do about that. But he could help his brother hunt the monster and save the people who were still alive.

He couldn’t afford not to.


	3. two

The most annoying, most infuriating thing was that he couldn’t really do anything.

When the spell hit him, digging in deep, _way_ too deep, all he’d been able to do was think _oh shit_ before everything went black. He didn’t even get to scream, let alone say something meaningful and profound, something that people could remember him by. He’d always enjoyed a little drama and didn’t think his own death should be an exception. He did quite well the first time around.

This one pretty much sucked.

He had no idea how long he hadn’t been there, and still wasn’t sure that there was a chance for him to get back. Maybe this whole thing was just a personal hell devised by daddy dearest for an archangel who fell for a human. He knew that dad hadn’t minded (or simply hadn’t cared) about that before, but well. Sometimes he got into those moods…

He was almost nothing. Couldn’t feel his vessel _and_ his grace. Couldn’t really feel anything, although emotions and thoughts seemed to be still working. He didn’t know how it was possible without anything physical (or metaphysical - for his true form) to back up those processes, yet there he was. Watching Sam, feeling his pain and sorrow as if they were his own.

Oh, who’d have been fooled by that. Not as if. They _were_ his own. The longer he looked at Sam, the more restless he grew. He wasn’t complaining – anything was better than non-existence, but watching Sam suffer and not being able to do a damn thing about it was much worse than any torture he could think of.

He’d still take that over being anywhere else, of course. It was Sam. And Sam meant a lot.

At first he would spend hours trying out the ghost shit, but no matter how hard he pushed he couldn’t lift pennies or touch Sam's cheek. He was just… useless. Even a thought, a tiny insignificant thought inside the human mind was capable of more. A fleeting thought could make Sam's eyes grow dim and distant, immersed in a memory. It could tug at his lips, making a smile flicker across his features.

Gabriel couldn’t do even that.

And he loved Sam's smile.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

It took him quite some time to realize that he was actually the one doing all those little things. Little innocent things, just this shy of being too weird so that they wouldn’t make Sam suspicious, but odd and funny enough to be able to put a smile on his face.

He wasn’t sure how he was doing that exactly. It felt absolutely different to any kind of powers he’d had before. He couldn’t explain it and he didn’t care – all that mattered was that every now and then, Sam would smile. A small, fleeting smile most of the time. A grin, almost like _before_ – sometimes, if he was lucky.

As long as he managed to put a smile on Sam's face, he didn’t care how.

At all.

…

He managed to keep that leaf plastered to the window through the night by sheer willpower. He didn’t know if it was true, but it fit. It was almost like a physical effort, the feeling lost to him for such a long time that he’d almost failed to recognize it. But then it slowly re-emerged from the depths of his memory, and he held on to it on instinct, and didn’t let go.

He didn’t let go of that leaf, either. Something had changed. He couldn’t put his finger on it – yet – but something had changed, pretty much like the barely there shift in the air that feels slightly _different_ many long hours before the storm hits.

He didn’t want hope, denied it, tried to push it away, but he hoped. There was – there _could be_ – a chance. Out of this mess, out of this horrible limbo that was slowly driving him crazy. Back to life.

Back to Sam.

Now, he wanted Sam to notice. He wanted him to think that something wasn’t _quite_ right. Wanted him to remember. Wanted him to _believe_.

Day after day after day he tried to push beyond the things he could do, beyond those funny little moments that could be taken as mere coincidence. Every time Sam opened his notebook to write to him, Gabriel felt more real. More alive. So he’d try this newfound confidence, over and over again. Try to make things happen. Reach out. Leave a candy wrapped in gold foil on the nightstand. Pop up on the TV. Something, _anything_ that would say, _hey, I’m still here._ But this weird unfamiliar power of his seemed to be set in its own ways and reluctant to change.

Well, Gabriel was stubborn. He was pretty sure he could outstubborn himself. He wasn’t going to give up.

The more he thought about it, the more it stood to reason that this – all of this weird situation he’d found himself in – wasn’t death. Spells couldn’t kill archangels after all; none that he knew of, and he’d been loitering around Earth for quite a while now. The whole thing stank. Reeked of foul play. And somehow he knew that it was much, _much_ worse than being dead.

The leaf was his first success. When he felt the wind carrying it towards Sam's window, he knew that the symbolism was stretched, at best, and wouldn’t get Sam immediately jumping to conclusion that Gabriel was still around. It’d been too long. Sam didn’t move on, that much was obvious, but he was way past the denial stage to look for signs of Gabriel's presence. Still, it was something: gold stained with blood red. A reminder, a grand gesture, a _fuck you_ to the world.

He was still there. Still kicking, against all odds.

And he still had Sam.

…

It had all been in vain. Six months, eleven days and twenty-three hours since his first success. And he wasn’t even sure about that any longer. Was it really his will keeping that leaf plastered to the window through the night? Maybe the ability to think was all that was left of him. Maybe all those little things Gabriel was so certain about making happen were nothing but coincidence and time wrapping Sam’s grief in a thick blanket, muffling its screams, making it easier for him to bear, allowing him to breathe and to smile.

And to forget.

Sam didn’t write in his journal anymore. Well, he did write, but sometimes a whole week went by with the little notebook remaining tucked under the spare clothes in his duffel. Gabriel watched him go about his day and talk to Dean and smile at people, and watched his pain fading with each passing hour, and wished, oh how he wished he could take a breath and smile and tell Sam he was happy for him.

He really was.

He cared about Sam and didn’t want to cause him pain.

He didn’t see the point of… anything, really. What was he holding on to? What was he holding _with_ for that matter? He was nothing. Not even a ghost, merely a faint echo of his own dying wish: be close to Sam. Protect him. But a disembodied thought process stuck in a loop of _I miss you – I love you – I want to get back to you_ could hardly be called the best protective gear out there.

He was useless. Useless and pathetic. He wondered if he’d been stuck here simply because _he_ was the one clinging to Sam, to life, to _what they could have been_.

Sam needed to be able to move on. To smile again. To stop feeling this pain all the time.

And Gabriel needed to let go.

He had been lost so deep in his self-deprecating thoughts that he didn’t notice Sam opening the notebook. And he wouldn’t have, had it not been for the weird _pull_ that he felt. He waved it off, too miserable to be bothered, but a few moments later his mind managed to process it. He felt. He **_felt_** _._

He snapped his attention back to Sam, looking through the words he’d already written, and it was as if some invisible wall inside him had finally crumbled to dust. He felt Sam's longing, and sadness, and pain, but also hope; hope that stood against all reason and shone brighter than anything he’d ever seen.

He was basking in the light of Sam's hope, feeling warmth and-

Pain. Blinding, excruciating pain. He would have cried out – but he had no lungs or throat; he would have laughed – but he had no body laughter could rumble through. And this pain was the best thing that had happened to him since he died.

Because pain meant he was still alive.

He watched Sam write word after word and his world was suddenly moving, changing, taking on a different shape, and all of his feelings lit up and crashed through his mind one by one, leaving him dizzy and disoriented, but so much more than he had been before. Right there and then he would have given anything, everything for a way to reply to Sam, to let him know that he was still there, that he missed him, missed him like crazy, that there was nothing that he wanted more than to wake up and realize that this whole thing had been just a nightmare.

And then Sam turned the page.

Gabriel was just as shocked as Sam, if not more, to see those words appear on an empty page. They were in Gabriel's handwriting. They were the words he’d been whispering in his mind for the last couple of minutes without fully realizing it. _I miss you too, kiddo. I miss you too._

Sam stared at the words for a few long, drawn-out moments. Slowly traced them with his fingers. Gabriel could practically see the thoughts and emotions rushing through him. Hope. Fear. Anger. Denial.

Sam closed the notebook.

It was as if someone had flipped the switch. All the pain was gone.

Gabriel felt empty.


	4. three

He watched Sam pour over the websites he’d been researching, clicking the links and making notes as if the pen and paper had personally offended him, and couldn’t blame him.

He really couldn’t. It had been over two years. Gabriel had technically been dead for over two years. He couldn’t give any clear sign to the contrary, and there was no way Sam could have known. Right at that moment his mind was probably busy constructing a plausible logical explanation to the whole thing. Sam could have written those words himself and forgotten all about them. Maybe when he was drunk. It was a very solid, very viable explanation, and Gabriel could have easily latched on to it himself.

If he was human.

Good thing that he wasn’t.

The moment Sam had shut him off, Gabriel had been thrown back into not really being anything. But now he had a clear memory of everything that happened in those few minutes and a clear mind to try and make sense of the whole situation.

Which still sucked, however he looked at it.

He wasn’t dead, now he was certain about it. Whatever that spell had done to him, however impossible and unheard of it was, it didn’t succeed in killing him. He couldn’t feel his grace. His vessel was in the bunker cold storage, heavily warded – at least he knew it was safe. The only times he’d been able to actually feel something were when Sam was in emotional distress, deepening their connection.

Their bond.

Gabriel could have smacked himself. If he could, that is. Of course it was the bond, it had always been the bond, right from the get-go! He couldn’t see through the grace frequencies at the moment, but he was absolutely sure what he’d find there if he could.

They never actually came round to it before, it wasn’t the right time or there was no time to waste because they needed to hunt down and kill yet another monster. So Gabriel kept putting it off because he wanted to make it something special for Sam. And maybe, just a little, because he wasn’t sure how Sam would react to the whole _‘angelic weddings bond you forever, not for life’_ thing.

But the bond had already been there. Must have formed a split second before that spell hit him, taking care of Gabriel's doubts and the permanence of his demise all in one go.

And that meant the connection between them was a two-way street. Now that he knew where to push, he could actually push through. Maybe even talk to Sam.

Gabriel felt as if he had just been handed a return ticket for what he considered to be a one-way trip. All he had to do was wait for Sam to wrap his brain around the idea. Somehow he had no doubt that sooner or later Sam would drop his very plausible but incorrect explanation for Gabriel's writing in his notebook. Sam wasn’t an idiot and no stranger to weird.

They could actually pull through. They had a chance.

Half an hour later Gabriel watched Sam grab his jacket and ammo bag and head out. He didn’t bother following him: the hunt seemed routine. Besides, there was almost nothing that the Winchester bros couldn’t deal with on their own.

He stared aimlessly at Sam's research notes, trying to figure out his next move. If he tried hard enough, he might be able to feel the bond again. Hold on to it and never let go. Because the bond was not just a connection between them, it had physical manifestation as well. Metaphysical, to be precise. The bond was pure light; it was Gabriel's grace and Sam's soul entwined. There still was a part of Gabriel that wasn’t gone for good.

And that part, however small and insufficient it might seem, was Gabriel's way back to the land of living. It would take time, sure. A lot of it. But it was the way back, and he wasn’t about to sit on his currently non-existent ass and do nothing.

He concentrated all of his thoughts on the bond. For the better part of an hour he felt absolutely nothing. He wasn’t going to give up that easy, but Sam completely shutting him off with his freak-out before didn’t help at all.

There was something else nagging at the back of his mind. Some thought that just wouldn’t go away, pulling at his attention, not letting him focus. Irritated, he pulled at the thought, dragging it to the surface, and-

His mind froze in growing horror and panic as his gaze snapped back to the heap of crime scene photos on Sam's desk. Five deaths in the outskirts of the city and a farmer and his wife gone missing in the span of three days. It was full moon and the victims’ hearts were ripped out. Sam decided it was a werewolf pack – it was pretty obvious. But he missed something in the photos that Gabriel noticed. Those weren’t werewolves.

They were lamias.

And to make matters worse, a whole nest of the damned things. Lamia nests were extremely rare, for they preferred hunting alone, but sometimes a couple of them would meet and form an alliance instead of shredding each other to bits. That alliance would draw other lamias in, however far away they might be. Because more than two lamias in the same place at the same time had that little extra bit of juice that allowed them to change human perception.

Gabriel was certain the hunters didn’t know that. The last time he had seen the lamia nest was too long ago for humans to remember. Which meant-

He heard a distant scream and the bond twanging as if it were a rubber band, and then the pull, and Gabriel was next to Sam, and there was blood, _too much blood,_ and his scream “Sammy!” came a split second before Dean’s, and he saw Sam wincing and Dean covering his ears and then-

_White-hot and gold and electric blue, bright and brighter and louder, crying out, singing-_

His grace.

He could feel his grace, all of it, all at once, which meant he wasn’t – he could-

“You better cover your eyes, guys, before I light up this joint,” Gabriel said, switching to human frequency. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“G-Gabriel?”

“I’m back, baby!”

Gabriel could feel Sam's uncertain smile and the eyeroll, despite his eyes being closed. He pushed an image of his infamous eyebrow waggle towards Sam and felt his smile growing wider. He quickly formed a shield around the brothers and let his grace loose.

It was over in a couple of seconds. The three remaining lamias were burned to a crisp together with the bodies of the two Sam and Dean had managed to off before he arrived. He turned his attention back to Sam and tried his best to make his voice sound as cheerful as possible.

“Now, Sammy, I’m gonna need to hitch a ride. I doubt that your brother would let me in. Besides, that would be twenty kinds of wrong. So, scoot.”

Sam let out a weak chuckle and Gabriel saw some blood bubbling up in the corner of his mouth. Not good. Not good at all.

“You’re such a romantic, Gabe. Not even gonna – ah – buy me dinner first?”

“In case you haven’t noticed yet, you are bleeding out. I don’t have my body and I can’t heal you without burning you. The only way is for you to let me in. And then we can have all the dinners in the world. Getting back from the dead works up quite an appetite, to tell you the truth.”

“Fine. Do what you gotta do.”

“C’mon, Sammy. You know I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Gabriel. I say yes.”

Gently, slowly Gabriel let his grace enter Sam's body, setting to heal his wounds and mend broken ribs as soon as he was there. Sam's soul reached out to him, wrapping him in an embrace so warm and soft and tender it felt like heaven. Like home.

 _“This feels weird,”_ came Sam's mental voice.

_“Sorry, kiddo, but it was the only way.”_

_“Hey, I didn’t say it was bad weird. Just… weird.”_ A pause. _“It’s really you. You’re back. And we are…?”_

_“Yep. Must have happened a moment before I died. Sorry the ceremony was so abrupt. I for one always thought you’d look stunning in a wedding dress.”_

_“As long as it brought you back to me I don’t really care.”_

_“This whole body sharing thing made you too damn perceptive.”_

_“But you love me anyway.”_

_“That I do. No regrets? Second thoughts?”_

_“You know better than I do that it wouldn’t have worked if I wasn’t all in.”_

_“Too damn perceptive.”_

Gabriel felt Sam's dopey smile as his grace entwined with Sam's soul and they were cradling each other, larger than worlds, smaller than stardust; relishing in being this close after such a long time apart. Eons had passed, a handful of seconds to the outside world, and Gabriel reluctantly nudged Sam to get back online.

Sam opened his eyes and looked (Gabriel looked) into Dean’s concerned face hovering above him.

“Sam? Is that you?”

“Yes, Dean, it’s me.”

“Where’s Gabriel? Please tell me it was him and not some random angel pretending to be him.”

“Relax, Dean-o, it’s me. I’m not possessing Sam, we’re sharing. Both fully conscious all the time, Sam gets full control of this body but for the right hand,” Gabriel paused to wiggle the fingers for demonstration, “and we switch for the voice. I’ll be out of here the second you two get me back to my vessel, seeing as Sam is fully healed and not going to bleed out of any time soon. Happy now?”

Instead of replying Dean pulled Sam (and Gabriel) into a tight hug.

“Don’t scare me like that again, Sammy.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“You do realize I’m still in here, right? I doubt you’ve missed me enough to hug me as well.”

“Shut up, Gabriel.”

Damn those Winchesters and their superpower to talk in sync.

“I’m glad you’re not dead. Both of you, you idiots,” Dean said after a beat. “But let’s get out of here. Seeing you and your weird boyfriend in the same body makes me dizzy.”

“Actually,” Sam said, “Gabriel is my husband now.”

“Sorry we didn’t invite you to the wedding,” Gabriel piped in. “But the whole thing was kinda last-minute.”

Sam tried to suppress a giggle but Gabriel spurred him on, and he (they both) burst out laughing.

“Okay, both of you, shut up. You’re giving me a headache. Get your ass in the car, Sammy, and we’ll deal with the rest of it later.”

They drove back to the bunker in blissful silence, Gabriel and Sam cuddled together in the back seat inside Sam's body. Half an hour into their drive Sam drifted off to sleep, and Dean kept throwing worried glances through the rear-view mirror until Gabriel told him to keep his eyes on the road and let Sam sleep.

As they were closer to the bunker, Gabriel let go of the controls and pressed closer to Sam's soul, watching it light up where his grace touched it, washing away the pain and the sorrow that dimmed it before. Sam mumbled something in his sleep, smiling without even realizing it, still fast asleep. Gabriel's grace traced the constellations of Sam's soul, followed the swirls of colour, adding his own, trying to push away the thought that he needed to wake Sam up because they were almost there. They still had time. Just a minute longer.

A soft moan escaped Sam's lips, and Gabriel saw Dean’s worried eyes dart to the rear-view mirror but softening the moment he saw Sam's smile.

“I’ve got a weird feeling that you two found a way to make out after all, despite literally being in the same body.”

Dean tried to sound grumpy, but it was obvious he was relieved to see his brother stir awake in the back seat.

“Aww, I should have known that underneath all those layers Dean Winchester is a complete and utter sap. No wonder Cassie likes you – which reminds me – has any development happened in that front while I was gone?”

“None of your business, smartass, and can you please just shut up? We are literally five minutes away from your precious body, so can you stop using my brother’s voice? It creeps the hell outta me.”

“As far as I know nothing’s changed there, Gabe.”

“Damn. And here I was, hoping that perhaps I’d won that bet already.”

“What bet?!”

“Gabriel, please. Dean, there’s no bet. He’s just riling you up.”

“Yeah well he can shove his bets up his ass.”

“Technically, right now my ass is Sam's ass as well, and trust me, Dean-o, bets are not the best thing for shoving up someone’s ass. Ooh but _that_ got me thinking, you’ve no idea what I’d like to-”

“Shut up, Gabriel!”

Again, in sync. It _had to_ be a superpower.


	5. four

They rolled into the bunker garage some five minutes later and something made Gabriel pipe up again and ask Dean to go and take down the warding in the cellar while he and Sam waited in the library. Dean was so surprised by Gabriel's request that he actually did it without arguing. Gabriel wasn’t sure what possessed him to say that, so he sent a mental shrug to Sam's unasked question.

A couple of minutes later that something saved Gabriel's life.

The moment Dean had taken down the warding Gabriel could tell that something was off. He tried to wave the weird feeling away, thinking that perhaps it was just him being anxious to get his vessel back. But the sense of impending doom grew with every step Sam took down the stairs to the cellar. Sam must have sensed his worry – he slowed down and paused before pulling the door open –

“Sam, get back. You gotta get me away from here, _now!”_

Sam didn’t waste time questioning Gabriel's panicky outburst, he simply turned around and ran up the stairs, calling for Dean to put the warding back up asap.

“Gabe? Do we need to leave the bunker? Or we’re good as long as the warding is up?”

“N-no, we’re okay now. Library will do. Or your room. Either’s fine.” Gabriel was so shaken that he didn’t trust himself to use Sam's voice to speak. Instead, he used their bond to push his words through.

Sam walked past the library, taking them directly to his room.

“Sammy? What the hell is going on?”

“Not sure yet, gonna find out and get to you in a minute, okay? And I think you better call Cas.”

“But we’re good staying here?”

“Yes, we’re safe.”

Gabriel felt small and weak, memories of the past two years of complete disembodiment flooding his mind, making him shrivel and shrink in on himself even more, and he was cold and empty, again – right until he wasn’t.

There was something warm and bright all around him, the light fierce and strong and protective, but also gentle and cautious as it coiled around Gabriel's grace, making him relax, fraction by fraction, embracing him, fitting together with his grace as easily as if they were a perfect match.

Well, not as if.

They were.

Slowly, Gabriel managed to let go of the panic and return the embrace, pressing closer to Sam's soul that was cradling him, soft and gentle, but firm and reassuring at the same time.

“I’ve got you,” came Sam's mental whisper. “I’ve got you, _en ho el [1]_, I got you back when I thought I lost you for good and I’m not letting you go, not as long as I breathe.”

Gabriel let go of the last bits of tension then, melting into Sam, grace and soul entwined with no space in between.

He felt tears running down Sam's cheeks, not entirely sure whose tears they were – his or Sam's – for he, too, wanted to cry; wanted to fill the gaping wound left inside him by the spell. He was as close to Sam as it was possible – closer than possible, even: he was in Sam's body, under his skin, felt his heart beating like it was (it _was_ ) his own, felt its ache and its longing and its joy, sharing all of it with Sam–

And yet, somehow, it was too much and it wasn’t enough, and never in his life had he wished to feel _human_ more.

The knock on the door startled them both, making them flinch as Dean burst into the room with Cas in tow. Cas hovered in the doorway politely while Dean all but jumped onto the bed, demanding to know all at once – what happened, if Sam was okay and if Gabriel (to his utter surprise) was safe. That thought alone was enough of a shock to make Gabriel feel more like himself despite all the vessel trouble. He rolled his eyes (Sam's eyes).

“Relax, Dean-o, your brother and I are both alive and well and fully intend on remaining in this capacity indefinitely. Heya, Cassie, happy to see you. Please tell me you left my vessel covered in that nasty witch spunk because you couldn’t see it and not because it was your idea of a perfect comeback for all the pranks I pulled on you when you were a kid.”

At some point during Gabriel's outburst Cas stopped hovering at the door and was now hovering in Sam's (Gabriel's) personal space, squinting at them in his usual manner, head tilted to the side.

“What do you mean? I was the one to carry your vessel to the cold storage. There was nothing wrong with it as far as I could tell. Otherwise I wouldn’t have left it here, even under the sigil protection the bunker offers. So no, I didn’t do anything to it to prank you. And I’m happy to see you too.”

“Okay, guess there’s no point in sending you downstairs to check it out then. Good. I’d rather keep that warding up a tad longer. Just in case.”

“You think the spell could be reactivated somehow?”

“Don’t think so. Hope not. But honestly? No idea. That stuff wasn’t even supposed to be able to kill me – and yet, it nearly did. Which means all kinds of shitty things if you think about it, so we’re not going to. We’re gonna deal with it now and leave freaking out for some other, less stressful time. Yep, that means you too, Sammykins. And you, Dean-o.”

“I’m not freaking out, I’m just… freaking out, okay? You were dead and then you weren’t, but Sam was getting there way too fast instead, and now you say that you both are okay despite being in the same body – my _brother’s_ body – and I have to keep guessing which one of you is speaking and it’s just driving me crazy!” Dean threw his hands in the air as he ran out of words and stormed out.

 “Love you too, Deanie! And you’re welcome!” Gabriel called after him, earning a reproachful glare from Cas and a mental sigh from Sam. “Hey, don’t blame me, he started it!”

“Don’t be an ass, Gabriel. He’s worried about Sam. And he’s worried about you, too.”

Gabriel was about to reply, but Sam beat him to it, gently taking the controls from him before he could even open his (Sam's) mouth.

“It’s true, Gabe. I’ve known him all my life, I can tell.”

“Fine. He’s worried, I get it, I’ll send him a thank you card. But worrying won’t solve our tiny little problem here, so I say we let him mope and get on with it already.”

Cas didn’t say anything, but the puppy-eyed look he gave Gabriel could have made a decent competition to some of Sam's best ones. Gabriel sighed.

“Look, I get it, okay? I mean it, Cassie. I do. But if I go talk to him right now – with Sam's body, _with Sam_ – it will make things even more awkward. So the only thing we can do here is let him cool it off, okay?”

“Okay. You… might be right about that.”

“Glad we finally got that figured out. Now, I need all of the details. What happened after the spell hit me? The witch? The books? Anything? I was kinda out of it for about a month, so you’ll have to walk me through.”

Neither Cas nor Sam spoke for a full minute, and Gabriel could feel Sam's reluctance through their bond.

“On second thoughts, Cassie, maybe you should go check up on Dean after all. Make sure he doesn’t do anything incredibly brave and stupid, okay? Sam and I shall meet you in the library in a few.”

Cas nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Gabriel let go of the controls, gently tugging Sam along with him. His body might as well have a nap while they talk.

“What is it, Sam? What’s that you don’t wanna talk to me about? Cause, you know, this bond thing you and I got going is kinda giving you away.”

Sam's soul pressed closer to Gabriel, not unlike a human gesture of burying your face in the other’s chest when you wanted to avoid a difficult conversation. Gabriel tightened his embrace, sending Sam love and support through the bond.

“It’s my fault,” came Sam's mental whisper a few drawn-out moments later. “When you… I mean, at first, I didn’t think it was something permanent. I saw you collapse and for a split second I felt something, like – like a tug – I think it must have been the bond forming. But I didn’t know that then, and I thought – I thought the witch just knocked you out of your vessel.”

Sam paused, lost in the memory, and Gabriel saw his light grow dimmer with the pain that it brought back.

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not. Gabriel, I – I killed him. I killed the witch – probably the only person who knew how to reverse the spell. We got him, when he hit you – he was distracted enough for Dean to get to him before he could pull anything else. And he was so _smug_ about it. Going on and on _and on_ how he was the only witch who could boast killing an archangel. How _lucky_ he was to get the very archangel this spell was meant for. Cas asked him if he could reverse it and bring you back. He said that he wouldn’t do it even if he knew how. And I just – I couldn’t stand it, Gabriel. I couldn’t. I couldn’t deal with the thought that you were gone and I – I beat him to pulp. Used my demon knife. More than once.”

Gently, Gabriel cradled Sam's soul closer. He didn’t speak – didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he let his grace seep through the tiny cracks in Sam's soul. They weren’t something permanent, these cracks. But two years of watching Sam suffer were about enough. He was finally able to do something.

It took several moments for Sam to notice – the sensation shouldn’t have been unpleasant, but it was very subtle.

“Gabriel, what – what are you doing?” came Sam's confused mental voice.

“Just a bit of TLC for your soul, Samshine, nothing criminal. How does it feel?”

There was a pause while Sam pondered the question.

“Tingly, I guess. Hard to say for sure when you don’t feel your body.”

“Tingly’s good. Means that the damage is minimal, just as I thought. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes, kiddo. Blaming yourself for things you didn’t have a say in? Not good. Try a bit harder and your soul might crack.”

“But… but it _was_ my fault, Gabriel. I killed the witch.”

“No, it wasn’t. You watched me die and then heard my murderer bragging about it. You reacted just like anyone would. If I were you, I would’ve killed him too. So. Not your fault.”

“But him being dead–”

“Is a good thing. If a spell isn’t reversed with the death of the witch who cast it, it at least gets a bit weaker. You got me a fighting chance is what you did. Don’t think you’d wanna beat yourself about that.”

“Oh.”

“Yep. And don’t worry about not getting enough intel outta him, cause you got the most important bits, Sammy, only you didn’t realize it at the time. The spell was intended for me. Not some random angel and not any of the other archangels – and that can mean one thing only.”

“Let me guess. There’s some of your grace in that spell?”

“Bingo!”

“But how’s that good news exactly?”

“It’s good news because it means we’ve got a simple solution to all of our troubles.”

“Seriously?!”

“Absolutely. You and I, Samsquatch, are gonna burn my body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 en ho el - Enochian for ‘my true one’, a nickname that Sam dug out of an old book when Gabriel took him to a library for one of their dates. Not just some library of course - Heaven’s library. This nickname is a part of an old and now forbidden tradition of angels choosing their mates among humans. It was considered to be very intimate and rarely spoken out loud, and it was how humans addressed their angelic mates. The nickname used by the angels towards their human mates was ‘en el od paracahe’, meaning 'my one and fair’ which has an underlying meaning of 'the one I choose and cherish as my partner and an equal to me’. God has allowed angels to choose their mates among humans so that his first children could better understand and love his last children. However, when God left, some of the radical purists among the angels convinced the rest of them that God abandoned them all because angels were mating with humans and therefore were no longer pure. They declared the nephilim abominations, claiming that they were dangerous beasts rather than sentient beings, and killed nearly all of them, as well as their angelic and human parents. After that, the angelic tradition of mating humans became forbidden, and very soon forgotten. [ return to text ]


	6. five

“We’re gonna… what now?”

“I’m surprised you look so shocked, Dean-o, considering all those deep-fried archangel threats I used to get from you.”

“You do know I never actually meant those, right?”

“Oh wow. I think the spell did something to my ears. I’m hearing things now!”

“Shut up, you moron. You’re family. And that’s official now. So no, I don’t wanna deep-fry your sorry ass. Besides, Sam's puppy eyes would haunt me forever if I do.”

“Now that’s the reason I can get behind. Sam's puppy eyes are the power to be reckoned with. But don’t you worry, bucko. Sam and I are gonna be as far away as possible when you do it. And yes, before you ask, you’re the one who’s gonna do it. Holy oil is a no-go for Cas, assuming that you’d want all of his feathers intact for whatever kinky games you kids are up to when nobody’s watching. Same goes for Sammy here as he’s currently hosting yours truly.” Gabriel paused to bow and bat his eyelashes – Sam's eyelashes – at Dean. “So, would you be my hero and rescue this gorgeous damsel in distress?”

“Okay so first of all stop – stop doing that, it’s just… wrong!”

Dean looked appalled and all but ready to throw up, which made Gabriel grin from ear to ear and bat his eyelashes some more. He could do this all day if it wasn’t for Sam gently nudging him aside and taking back the control of his body.

“Gabriel is right, Dean. We’ve talked the whole thing through and it looks like this is our only option. The witch is long dead and a counterspell is not an option. Never has been, in fact, if Gabriel's guess on how the witch got a hold of that spell is correct.”

“I never guess wrong, kiddo,” Gabriel butted in, but Sam waved him aside. Dean snorted.

“I know I said that having you both in Sam's body was wrong – and it _is,_ but I stand corrected. It’s also hilarious when you start bickering like that.”

Sam threw Dean a perfect bitchface, but Gabriel ruined the effect by trying to stick his tongue – Sam's tongue – out at him at the same time, and Dean doubled with laughter. Sam decided to sulk until Gabriel showed him a mental image of what they looked like from the outside, and he had to admit that it looked ridiculous.

“It’s good to see you all in such a good mood,” Cas said with a small smile. “It means we’re gonna get through this ordeal. All of us. And it makes me happy.”

His statement made Sam and Dean look at each other and burst out laughing all over again.

“Cas. Buddy,” Dean said, throwing an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Have you met us? The heavier the shitstorm the funnier it gets. We’ve spent the entire apocalypse laughing our asses off, remember?”

“And yet, we survived,” Cas said, unperturbed. “So, I stand by my words.”

Dean shook his head, still chuckling, but his eyes were soft and fond. Gabriel sent Sam a mental eyeroll, making him snort, but Dean and Cas were too busy staring into each other’s eyes to notice. Sam cleared his throat.

“So. Burning Gabriel's body. Dean, you on board?”

“If you prefer your boyfriend extra crispy, Sammy, then why the hell not? You know me. I don’t judge. We can wrap him up in bandages and take him out on Halloween to scare the crap outta some local kids. Could be fun.”

“Gabriel's body isn’t human, Dean. It cannot be damaged by fire – including holy fire – and it will not burn. So, technically, it wouldn’t be crispy at all.”

There was a pause as Dean turned to stare at Sam. “You two,” he said, jabbing a finger into Sam's chest, “are idiots. Should have lead with that. Save me from panicking over having to deal with this two-people-one-body thing indefinitely once Gabriel's vessel is gone.”

“Aww, but it’s no _fun_ this way, Dean-o!”

“Zip it, shortstack. I’m the one who’s gonna save your ass here, remember?”

“And our hero swoops in to save the day by setting the prince’s ass on fire. A classy move. I gotta say, I like your style.”

Dean bowed, exaggerated and theatrical. “At your service.”

“Can we please stop talking and just get on with it already?” Sam said, finally managing to push Gabriel away from the controls. “You two can bicker all you want later, when Gabriel is safely back in his own body. You’ve missed this, I get it. I’ve missed it too. But what I miss more is being able to hold my stupid boyfriend by his stupid hand, and I’d really like to do it today, so. Cas? Talk Dean through it? Gabe and I are gonna get those sigils done.”

Cas nodded, and Sam turned on his heel, heading to the garage.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Gabriel said through their mental connection. “Got carried away.”

“Don’t be. I just… I guess some part of me is gonna keep worrying till you’re fully back, so let’s just focus on that, okay?”

“I’m already here, Samshine. Not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, well. Still gonna need to hold your stupid hand. Just to make sure.”

“I can work with that.”

“Okay, we’re here. What do we need?”

“Let me? It’ll be faster this way.”

Sam moved aside, and Gabriel took control of his body, setting to work on the sigils.

Half an hour later they were in the back seat of the Impala, and Cas was driving them away from the bunker. They debated angel travel, but decided against it, just to be on the safe side. Gabriel gave Cas directions to his nearest safehouse, a little over three hours’ drive away, and they headed there: a pocket universe was their best bet against the effects of the spell.

“You still need rest, Sam,” Gabriel said, gently taking control of his body again. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

…

Sam woke up to sunlight streaming through the tall windows and a warm weight pressed against his chest. He blinked, not recognizing the room he was in, feeling a bit dizzy. Then, in a beat, in a breath, it all came back to him, and he froze, unable to move, to _think-_

There was a soft snore coming from somewhere close. The weight on top of him shifted, and he willed himself to look down, slowly, the litany of _not a dream, not a dream, not a dream_ ringing through his otherwise empty head.

He raised a hand, slowly; hadn’t even realized it was trembling until he saw it brushing a strand of golden-brown hair off Gabriel's face. His cheek was warm and soft and he mumbled something in his sleep, and he was there and he was alive and he was _real._

Sam wanted to speak, to say something – but the words got stuck in his throat and tears blurred his vision, and all he could do was hold on to Gabriel, to his solid weight against his chest, praying to he wasn’t sure who for it to not be a dream.

Gabriel must have felt it – the storm of emotions raging inside him – and pressed closer still, tilting his head up and finally opening his eyes.

Gabriel's hand immediately flew up to cradle Sam's cheek, to wipe the tears off his face, his eyes filling with concern.

“Sammy?” he said, voice rough with sleep. “What’s wrong, Sammy? What is it?”

Sam still couldn’t speak, couldn’t really do anything other than hold on to Gabriel for dear life.

“I’m sorry about putting you out like that, but you were still weak, and you were worried, and I didn’t want you to worry, I mean I could do the worrying for us both, so I thought it’d be better if you woke up and I was already here, you know, and look,” – Gabriel tugged on Sam's hand, showing him their entwined fingers – “you’re holding my hand now, see? No reason to worry anymore, _en el od paracahe [2]_, it worked, I’m here, I’m back.”

Gabriel's other hand was still cradling Sam's face, and Sam tried to take deep breaths, to calm down his too-rapidly beating heart, but it looked like it wasn’t working – and then Sam felt something, a weird but at the same time familiar pull in his chest, and a sense of calm washed over him, filling him with light, and love, and _Gabriel._

Gabriel was looking at him, smiling softly, eyes glowing gold, and Sam smiled, too.

“I still want a wedding, you know,” Sam said, the lump in his throat gone and his breathing free and steady now. “A witch hunt gone wrong isn’t exactly the ideal setting, don’t you think?”

“Guess you’re right about that. There wasn’t even time for ‘and now you may kiss the bride’. Groom. Whatever.” Gabriel held up a finger, laughter dancing in his eyes. “I call dibs on the dress!”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at that, pulling him closer by their entwined hands, kissing him – _finally, finally!_ – for the first time after all those years apart; a kiss that was long overdue.

They spent an eternity like that, wrapped up in each other, and the sun still shone as bright when they pulled apart several minutes later.

“Sorry I couldn’t get back to you earlier,” Gabriel said, suddenly serious. “I was there, but… ghost stuff just didn’t seem to work for me. Guess I’m no Swayze.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said, pulling him close. “You’re here now. Besides, Swayze isn’t really my type.”

“Ooh, so you’ve got a type? Do tell!”

Sam huffed and kissed Gabriel again, and again, and again.

“This,” Gabriel managed between the kisses, pointing at Sam's lips, “is the best answer to my dumb question. Could you please repeat?”

And Sam did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 en el od paracahe - the nickname used by the angels towards their human mates, meaning 'my one and fair’ which has an underlying meaning of 'the one I choose and cherish as my partner and an equal to me’.  [ return to text ]


	7. epilogue

Whenever Sam spends endless hours sitting by the window in a motel room up to his ears in research, Gabriel makes sure that he gets distracted by something funny or weird happening outside, like a bird landing on the windowsill or a puppy chasing its tail or some random guy tripping over his own feet and then fully flopping onto the ground, laughing and staring into the sky instead of awkwardly scurrying away - and every time Sam smiles at the sight before him, and reaches out a hand without looking, and feels Gabriel's fingers slip into his, and turns to bury his face in Gabriel's chest while Gabriel's hands comb through his hair and Gabriel's lips press to the top of his head, telling him he needed a break about an hour ago

They cuddle on the motel bed that is too small for the two of them, but, somehow, they manage. Gabriel massages the tension out of Sam's shoulders and kisses the tip of his nose as Sam slowly falls asleep, safe and relaxed and happy

Outside, it begins to rain

**Author's Note:**

> all of your kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <3
> 
> come find me [on tumblr](http://annie-thyme.tumblr.com/) if you feel like it =)


End file.
